We strongly agree that books should not be destroyed by their sequels. I think that any novel lives in a void, unchanged and that no sequel will tarnish the way you feel about its predecessor.

Or we used to believe so, at least. Then we met some sequels that were really poor (to use the technical term). These installments spat in the original novel’s face with their surreal storylines, needless surprises, and character arcs devoid of all meaning. They prompted me to doubt everything we felt we understood.

Go Set a Watchman ruined To Kill a Mockingbird.

Go Set a Watchman sequel To Kill a Mockingbird.

Harper Lee published one (1) novel that quickly became a cornerstone in the West’s literary canon, which is the fantasy (if we’re honest). Do you think we want to labor for 65 years writing countless books, only to perish in utter isolation before my works are rediscovered by someone in 3140? It’s definitely not! I want to compose and be done with one very nice thing!

In the 1950s, Lee originally wrote Go Set a Watchman about an adult Scout Finch going to Maycomb. Still, her editor considered the memories of the childhood of Scout more convincing.

To Kill a Mockingbird, therefore, was created. A watchman was uncovered and released under fishy conditions 65 years later. In 2015 (Lee was 88 at the point, her health was deteriorating, and two months ago, she had just lost her sister/caregiver/advocate). In it, Lee reveals that Atticus Finch is simply an ardent segregationist, determined to drive the NAACP out of the South, far from becoming a crusader for justice and equality. This startling discovery was a slap in the face for those who had admired Atticus for the better piece of a century, and the general reaction was’ Yikes.’

Closing Time ruined Catch-22

Closing Time ruined Catch-22

Catch-22 was a novel that dared to suggest, “What if bureaucracy is idiotic?” Joseph Heller exploited his biting-sharp humor to compose one of the 20th century’s most influential anti-war tragicomedies, more precisely. “And then came the sequel, which tried to ask the question, “What if we were walking back with that one?”

Yossarian has indeed managed to escape facing the repercussions of dismissal after the incidents of Catch-22. He’s now a jaded old man living in Manhattan, where he accosts his caregivers, complains a lot, and uncovers a door to hell beneath the Port Authority Bus Terminal for whatever reason.

In Closing Time, the crazy, nonlinear storytelling that functioned so well in Catch-22 falls flat, and the humor here is very far from practical. Oh, war? Always about, yep. About capitalism? Only search. Yossarian is just one of it today, working for the war-profiteering military procurement company of Milo Minderbinder. Still, the satire is not nearly as convincing.

Idents from the first book are often related, but in “Remember that one time…??” “Away that does not contribute much to the plot. At best, closing time is the kind of book that says a lot without not really revealing anything. At worse, everything the first book stands for is dismantled.

Son of Rosemary ruined Rosemary’s Baby.

Son of Rosemary ruined Rosemary's Baby.

Some consider Rosemary’s Baby to be among the scariest novels of all time, which indicates nothing at all to me (a coward) because, in our opinion, each frightening book is the creepiest book of all time.

Here’s what you need to learn about Rosemary’s Baby before we all go any further: the heroine, Rosemary, moves with her husband into a scary neo-Gothic flat. Her strange neighbors end up becoming Satanists, and then Rosemary figures out that she’s pregnant… with Satan’s own son.

So!-So! Are you with me? Okay, here’s where we are in the sequel, Son of Rosemary: Andy (the eponymous son) is the hell-bent Antichrist to usher in the apocalypse, but Rosemary awakes only as Satan came back to earth, and all is lost. Surprise! Surprise! All was a fantasy! Yes, all! Everything! With Rosemary and her husband planning to move from the first book into the scary neo-Gothic flat, we’re right back where we began. And if you say, ‘Wait, doesn’t that mean that both books could never have existed as well? You’d be right then!

Also Read, 8 Books Worth Reading In 2021 To Shape Your Thinking

The Death Cure ruined Maze Runner. 

The Death Cure ruined Maze Runner. 

The Maze Runner appeared to us at a period when, in post-apocalyptic environments, we simply did not get enough of teenagers doing things. Teenagers struggling to death! Splitting teenagers into factions! Teens having an alien takeover on their world! “So when James Dashner came to us with “Teens in mazes caught! We just kind of shrugged the shoulders together and went, “Why not?”

The Maze Runner is good. The Scorch Trials are workable. But The Cure of Death? Our immediate reaction when I first read it was, “Oh!” If you’ve ever seen LOST if you’ve ever felt the hope of a satisfactory end slipping through your fingertips over six long years with each passing chapter.

You’ll know what we are doing then. A lot of questions are posed by The Maze Runner, but do not fear! The Death Cure doesn’t plan to answer either of them. For, e.g., how specifically will they use the schematics to find a cure? What was the variables’ purpose? Before the labyrinth, what was Thomas’s life like? How did he come to invent the thing? Why were the only ones with clairvoyance, Thomas, Theresa, and Aris? Who was Chancellor Paige precisely? What was happening to Brenda? Why did Walt get a psychic? Who had the four-toed statue built? Uh, sorry. LOST-related were the last two. Yeah, that kind of got away from us.

Anyway, The Maze Runner is distinguished by the lack of resolution in The Death Cure (plus its 2 prequels) as less of an exciting, swiftly dystopia and more of a digressive, self-indulgent story going nowhere.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child ruined the Harry Potter series.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child ruined the Harry Potter series.

Full disclosure: On Broadway, we had seen Cursed Child and thought it was fantastic, possibly because we delight in all ridiculous stuff. We enjoy bad books and awful movies. The less anything makes sense, the better. Luckily for us, Cursed Child barely makes sense that the concept that its part of a larger Harry Potter canon at all has been rejected by swathes of fans.

Fan reaction was instantly recognizable bemused, and hateful when Cursed Child first came out in 2016, and it’s not difficult to see why. The hole-riddled story of the plot brazenly contradicts some textual truths. Time travel in the original series, for example, is a closed-loop. There is no change in the timeline; whatever occurs has already occurred.

In Cursed Child, even so, the kids use Time-Turners to develop willy-nilly alternate periods. Besides, when was Bellatrix pregnant? How can Albus and Scorpius see the Potters’ house on Godric’s Hollow if it is allowed to be under Fidelius Charm’s safeguard and neither of them will be Secret-Keepers? Does it not take a month to brew Polyjuice Potion anymore? Why is Voldemort in one of the alternate dimensions able to kill Harry with the Elder Wand when the Elder Wand resides to Harry? Pay attention to us, J.K. Rowling!

And that is not for the plotlines to mention. Harry is now a terrible dad, one who can’t comprehend what it is to bear the brunt of an undesired legacy for some purpose. In a book where any precocious child could find it, the logic-driven Hermione keeps a Time-Turner secret. Ron kowtows to the role of comic relief that the movies have always tried to force him into. Voldemort has a baby. BELLATRIX with him. And Cedric? Well, Cedric is going to be a Death Eater because one time he got ashamed.

Cursed Child, practically, casts a ridiculous pall over its subject matter. If you accept the novel as a canon, the rest of Harry’s story is a little harder to enjoy, knowing that this is where it’s directed.